The Race
by Bruh Studios
Summary: [Story Fragment] Once on the track a racer knows anything can happen, but are they ready for it?


**The Race**

… the final blow tossed the mech backwards, Takeshi working feverously to regain control of the swerving machine. His grunts and groans mixed with the warning bells signaling trouble, creating a chaotic symphony in the cockpit. With a final effort the machine leveled out, allowing Takeshi enough time to spot the up coming curve in the track, his eyes shooting a quick glance at his opponent. As both machines entered the banked turn, Takeshi eased off the throttle, hoping to exact a measure of revenge for the pummeling. "Back for more?" a sneering voice taunted as the opposing mech dove down the track, metal arm raised to strike.

"Bring it River!" Takeshi snarled vehemently back, racing his machine up the bank.

Metal met metal with a resounding crunch as the two mechs impacted; River's sliding back up the track. Undeterred, the blond teen pushed his mech back towards his former teammate, readying himself for another assault. Takeshi met River with a hefty right, turning River aside. With rage building, River attempted to strike back, finding his left leg unresponsive. "Come on," he hissed, feeling his mech creep up the track.

"River!" Takeshi screamed, a shower of sparks trailing behind his mech as it rocketed towards River's.

Slowly the track leveled out, both mechs exiting the turn at a blistering pace, River finding himself dangerously close to the edge. The gap between the racers narrowed in a flash, Takeshi delivering a lowered shoulder squarely into River's back. Combined with his unsteady mech, the impact knocked River from his feet. Momentum carried the sailing mech clear of the track, the extra shoulder doing nothing to catch the damaged machine. Horror raced over River's face as his machine hurtled for a support pillar, drawing near at a pace too quick to react to.

"No!"

The impact tore the right arm from the torso, knocking the pilot unconscious, sending the rest of the mech into a corkscrew. Impact with the ground was sudden, snapping off both legs at the joints. Momentum carried the machine's corpse on, shredding parts as it somersaulted and cartwheeled through the city streets. The mangled wreckage rocketed through the lower portion of a building; sending out shards of glass and concrete, adding it to the deadly rain of debris. With each successively smaller bounce the mech came to grate against the street, giving off a ghastly screech as it showered sparks behind it. Barreling through another intersection, the screaming wreckage bore down on another building. The collision came with a near deafening wham, a cloud of gray dust quickly expanding as the remains of the machine failed to punch through the other side.

An eerie silence fell upon the world, horrified stares all directed at the path of destruction left in the wake of the broken machine. Deep gouges were carved from the streets, overturned cars strewn across the urban landscape, the bodies of the countless unfortunates lying scattered about. Eyes slowly turned to the building as the cloud gradually dissipated. Metal that once comprised a prime racing machine was now mangled beyond recognition, lengthy breaks exposing the complex innards. Damaged electronics snapped and sparked away the last of their life before falling silent.

One adventurous young man warily neared the mass of metal, heading for what appeared to be the cockpit. Finding the door ajar and warped, he gripped an exposed edge and began to pull. His effort was soon joined by several others, barely separated from their shock. Their combing exertion slowly peeled away the mech's skin, revealing a dark void. The first to catch sight of the pilot inside stumbled backwards, violently twisting to spill his stomach on the scarred tile floor. Others averted their eyes, stepping back out of disgust. Despite the protective gear, all the pilot's limbs were shattered, his body contorted unnaturally in the confined space. Crimson was sprayed about the interior, looking more akin to paint than someone's lifeblood. The first of a chorus of sirens rang out, and ambulance pulling up into the center of the building. Crowds of people flowed in through the hole created minutes prior, each hoping to satisfy a morbid curiosity. An EMT made his way quickly to the machine, needing only a glance to pass judgment. "We need a body bag guys," he announced grimly, heading back to his vehicle with slouched posture.

A buzz swept over the crowd, spreading like an unchecked wildfire, carrying the news that River Marque was dead.

* * *

On the track all function ceased, spectator and participant alike watching the horror unfold below. For once even the always-boisterous Benjamin Bright was silent, the microphone slipping from this grasp. As the mech tore through the city streets, and even when it came to rest, the entire world seemed on hold. Within the remaining machines the pilots looked on with emotions ranging from horror to sadness, and even anger, and emotion Yamma felt directed at Satomi's lead pilot. "Takeshi!" he roared, beginning to move his mech at his anger's target.

Progress was halted by Sledge Mamma's defender. "I should kill you right here!" Yamma wailed, his body quivering with emotion.

The news of their counterpart's fate was yet to reach them, but they all knew there was nothing more than a slim chance of survival…


End file.
